


Smells Like Nick Grimshaw

by b0yfriendsinl0ve



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Amortentia, Fluff, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, M/M, Potions, i dunno i'm shit at tags, ish, not in the taking it way though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b0yfriendsinl0ve/pseuds/b0yfriendsinl0ve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Nick have potions together. Nick's annoying. Louis drinks tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smells Like Nick Grimshaw

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this prompt](http://baftaharry.tumblr.com/post/136186696803/hazzzaandboobear-hogwartsau-where-harry-and) expect i tomlinshaw-ified it because i just couldn't help myself
> 
> and the title's like because amortentia smells different to each person and like things they love and all that
> 
> and like that nirvana song
> 
> yeah clever i know

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Louis sighs, looking up from the table and the brilliant knife-work he was in the middle of. The juice of whatever the hell this ingredient is is all over his fingers. But he knew this was coming. Not a single lesson goes by where this doesn’t happen. He can see Harry shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

“No I’m not,” Louis says, defensive.

Nick thrusts his potions text book across the table, pointing enthusiastically at one of the lines of the instructions. “Yes you are, you’re supposed to slice the Sopophorous beans, not dice them.”

Which, is probably true. Louis wasn’t exactly paying attention, and it’s perfectly likely that his first class cooking instincts from home kicked in, hence the dicing, but he’s not exactly gonna tell Nick that.

“I’m improvising,” he says instead.

Nick scoffs. His quiff’s wilting, no doubt from the stream rising from his bubbling cauldron. Serves him right for doing his hair like that in the first place, really, it’s a stupid choice anyway, let alone when he knew they’d be fussing over cauldrons. Like they do. Every single potions lesson. Louis sometimes wonders if his hatred for Nick is organic or simply sprung from their house rivalries. If it did it certainly became a hatred for the person himself after, not just the green and silver he wears.

Nick laughs in a way that makes Louis want to punch him, patronising and hatful. “Improvising is what people do when they don’t know how to actually do something.”

“Improvising,” Louis replies in his haughtiest voice, not that dissimilar from Nick’s normal voice really, “is what people with intuition and talent do, how do you think people come up with these potions in the first place?”

A sigh from his right. “If you must argue, perhaps you should put your sharp blades down,” Harry chips in, ever the responsible neutral party, even though he really ought to be on Louis’ side.

Professor Slughorn likes to have a student from every house making up the four per table. The Ravelnclaw that to Louis left must hate them, and Harry only puts up with them because he’s friends with everyone. Louis doesn’t understand how anyone who’s friends with him could ever be friends with Nick, but whatever. At least he stops them from actually killing each other.

Harry’s looking at them with pleading eyes, as he so often does in these lessons. He has his Hufflepuff tie wrapped around his forehead as some sort of makeshift headband, keeping his long curly out of his face. It looks ridiculous, but at least it’s practical.

Nick seems to have completely ignored Harry, which Louis thinks is very rude but he’s not exactly gonna put his knife down if Nick’s still holding his, that would be preposterous. “Are you comparing yourself to world famous potioneers, Tomlinson? Funny, seeing as you only got an E in your O.W.L.s.”

It’s a sensitive subject and Louis knows Nick knows that. “That was a fluke and so did you, anyway.”

“Ok I’m just gonna take the knives away from you.” Harry reaches towards them like one might a dangerous animal. Louis lets him take his knife but only after Nick does first. Louis fist pumps in his head.

Nick scoffs. “But  _I’m_  not claiming to be Britian’s next great brewer.”

“I don’t even know why you picked potions,” Louis mutters darkly, “you don’t know anything. I bet you don’t even know the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane.” Harry chuckles. Nick looks even angrier. Louis smirks, triumphant in many ways.

“They’re literally the same thing and not even part of this recipe.” And if Louis thought Nick couldn’t get any stupider, he was oh so mistaken.

“I know that, it was a joke.” Louis takes his knife back from Harry and turns back to his chopping board. He looks at his diced up beans appraisingly. He’s sure they’ll be fine, it’s practically the same thing as slicing anyway. A better technique even, maybe. He looks up again, Nick’s still looking at him, eyebrow raised like he knows exactly what Louis' thinking. The twat. “Geeze, maybe you should brew a laugh-inducing potion next, you clearly don’t have a sense of humour.”

“You’re clearly not as funny as you think you are,” Nick spits back at him, hair flopping right over his face with the movement of his head. Louis laughs hysterically. The whole class probably hates them.

“Grimshaw, Tomlinson,” Professor Slughorn calls across the classroom, and anyone who wasn’t already staring at them, certainly is now. “Perhaps the best time to argue is not when making a potion that could put you into a catatonic state.”

Which. Right. Draught of Living Death, and all that. Louis ducks his head, embarrassed. He hates looking like an idiot in front of people. Especially teachers.

“Yes professor, sorry professor,” Nick calls back, sounding like a right swot.

“ _Yes professor, sorry professor,_ ” Louis mocks him under his breath.

He waits until everyone’s focusing back on their own work, absent-mindedly reading over the instructions he has left before looking back up at Nick and his stupid floppy quiff. “You probably shouldn’t worry, your potion won’t be able to knock out a worm let alone a giant like yourself.”

Nick’s eyes flash dangerously. It makes Louis feel squirmy. With anger and dislike. Probably. “And it’s a good thing yours won’t work, Tomlinson, a drop of a proper batch would probably kill you rather than put you to sleep, your tiny body would be too overwhelmed.”

And if there’s one thing Louis cannot stand, its jibes about his height.

Harry rests a hand on Louis’ forearm, warning him against whatever comeback he totally definitely has ready to say. His glare contrasts the soft calm of his touch. “I’ll kill you both if you don’t shut up.”

Nick and Louis look at each other. A cease-fire might be a good idea, for now. It is a very advanced potion after all, he should probably be paying more attention. Nick seems to be thinking along the same lines, simply nodding then turning back to Harry.

“Wow, Styles, I didn’t know you were so proud of your lethal potion skills.”

Harry smiles, glad for a little bit of friendliness probably. “I’m not, but I am fond of a good old-fashioned muggle strangling.”

“Kinky,” Nick and Louis say in unison. Nick winks at him. Louis blushes. What a twat.

Harry chuckles. “Oh, sod off,” he says fondly.

And that seems to be that. Louis goes to cut up his last few beans but Harry mumbles an  _ummmm_. Louis looks up at him.

Harry looks apologetic. He doesn’t like where this is going. “You are supposed to slice not dice, Lou.”

Right.

“Slice not dice,” Nick repeats, far too happily.

Of Course.

Louis looks at his apparently-ruined beans dejectedly. He sighs.

He hates potions. He hates that he’s not as good at potions as he should be. He hates that Harry has other friends.

And he especially hates Nick Grimshaw.

 

☾

 

“You know you have your own common room, right? Yellow? Everything’s weirdly round? This ringing any bells?”

Harry sighs, putout but Louis knows he’s exaggerating. “Yes, but my common room doesn’t have views like this and I want to map the stars.”

“Go to the bleedin’ astronomy tower then,” he says like it’s obvious. Because it is.

Harry pouts. “It would be lonely,” he whines.

Louis shakes his head and ignores him. It’s all you can do to shut him up really. And even then it doesn’t always work.

They’re sat in Louis’ dormitory, Louis cross-legged on his bed with his potions book open in his lap and Harry on the window seat staring at the stars and taking down notes. There’s no one else there, all probably still at dinner or down in the common room, and Louis had been hoping for some peace and quiet.

It’s not like he minds having Harry here. Quite the opposite in fact. It’s just, it would be nice if Harry spent some time in his own common room, for once. Sleeping in his own bed. Using his own toothbrush.

A few minutes later and Harry seems satisfied with the constellation he was working on. He makes his way towards Louis and plonks himself down next to him. The whole bed shakes. The ‘S’ he was in the middle of writing goes to shit.

“So. Potions,” Harry says. He’s definitely up to something.

Louis glares at him. “If that’s your idea of small talk, it needs a little work.”

Harry smacks him in the shoulder. Louis’ ‘L’ goes everywhere. He gives up on writing. “It was supposed to be a conversation starter, actually.”

Louis doesn’t like the sound of that. “And what conversation is that, exactly.”

“That you’re in love with Nick Grimshaw,” he says matter of factly.

Louis somehow blanches and blushes at the same time all the while trying to appear as nonchalant as possible because he wouldn’t want Harry to think he’s reacting like this because that’s true. It’s not. It was just such a shock to his system. “I think you’ve got the words ‘love’ and ‘hate’ mixed up.”

Harry smirks. Maybe his reaction was more noticeable than he thought. “And _I_ think you fancy Nick Grimshaw.”

And the annoying thing is this isn’t the first time Harry has suggested this ludicrous idea. He’s brought it up fairly regularly since the beginning of the school year and a couple times before then, even, during O.W.L.s.

Louis has no idea where he gets these ideas from.

“You’re meant to be together,” Harry insists, grabbing Louis’ hand, and if he goes for a palm reading, Louis might smack him.

He pulls his hand away. “I don’t want to hear any of your divination bullshit.”

Harry pouts. “Firstly, it’s not bullshit, and secondly, I’m saying that because I know you both so well.”

“Really,” Louis says sceptically, “and what exactly do you know about us.”

Harry looks so glad that Louis’ actually engaging in the conversation. He already regrets asking. “That you’re practically the same person and you’d be perfect together.”

Louis stares at him a little, hoping he’ll figure out for himself how stupid this all sounds. Harry just keeps beaming at him. Louis huffs. “Even if we were ‘ _the same person’_ , which I’m not saying we are, have you never heard of opposites attract?”

“But you’re both stubborn and sarcastic and annoying and loud-” Harry counts on his fingers.

Louis is genuinely a little bit offended. “Wow, you’re really stroking my ego here.”

Harry continues over him. “And funny and kind and hopeless romantics and family orientated-”

“Woah,” he interrupts promptly, “ok that sounds a bit more serious than school crushes to me. Like you’re planning our wedding or something.”

Harry eyes go all glossy and big, he can practically see the hearts in them. “You called him you crush,” he sounds delighted.

Louis scoffs. “In your weird scenario, not in real life.”

“Oh come on,” Harry whines, bouncing a little. What a child, “are you really telling me that you don’t find him attractive.”

Louis blushes. “He’s quite good-looking, yes.” He admits reluctantly, and he can sense the squeal Harry’s about to make, the bouncing intensifies, so he’s quick to clarify. “But that’s what makes him being a twat even more frustrating.”

“He think you’re pretty,” Harry confides in him, eyebrows wriggling ridiculously.

Louis gapes. Because what. “What?”

Harry nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he told me so.”

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “By that do you mean like how you just forced me to say he was good-looking?”

Harry at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Yes, but that doesn’t stop it from being true.”

If Louis looks even half as disbelieving as he feels, Harry really ought to get the message.

“He likes you,” Harry insists. Pauses. “Like, like-likes you,” he reiterates, as if Louis didn’t know what he meant the first time, he can tell Harry’s already written his best man speech. For both of them.

“Really?” Louis asks, sceptically, “Did Nick Grimshaw actually say _‘I fancy Louis Tomlinson’_?”

“Not in so many words,” he concedes, “but I could read the subtext.” Of course he could. Louis shakes his head, muttering under his breath, and goes back to reading about lacewing flies.

It’s quite difficult, really, to concentrate on anything with Harry Styles staring at you from a foot away. Louis tuts, looks back up at him. “What?” he snaps.

“You really are very alike,” he’s calmer this time, more serious. It just makes Louis more suspicious. Harry can tell he’s got Louis’ attention, so he continues, “like, not just in personality but in life and stuff.”

“Are you just saying that because we’re both gay?” Louis accuses. He doesn’t think Harry would ever think like that, but you never really know.

Harry seems slightly offended at that. “No, of course not.” He leans right into Louis’ space, whispers, “You’re more the same then you’ll ever know.”

Louis groans. “I told you no mystic shit.”

He shuts his potions book for dramatic effect, effectively ending the conversation. He walks to his trunk and the foot of his bed to put it back with the rest of his schoolbooks. Harry follows him, and peers over his shoulder where he’s knelt as he reorganises them in order of his lessons tomorrow.

He lets out a low impressed whistle, leaning his full weight on Louis’ back. “Wow, that’s a lot of books.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Shrugs Harry off. “I’m doing five subjects, what did you expect.”

Harry plonks himself back onto Louis’ bed, shuffles ‘til they’re staring at each other right over his now closed trunk. “Why?”

Louis fiddles with the fasteners. Traces his initials on the front. “Because I have to.”

Harry’s gaze is unwavering. “No you don’t.”

“Yes I do,” Louis sighs climbing over his trunk and through the gap between bedposts to collapse facedown onto his duvet. He mumbles into the fabric, half hoping Harry won’t hear him, “if I wanna be an auror I have to do five N.E.W.T.s.”

Harry sits on Louis’ lower back like you would to give someone a massage. They have a strange relationship. “But you don’t even wanna be an auror.”

He could really do with a massage right now. This conversation is the opposite of relaxing. Always is.  “Harry,” Louis sighs.

Harry taps the side of Louis’ neck, knows he’s ticklish and hates it. “You’re parents want you to be an auror.”

And ok, that’s enough.

Louis throws Harry off of him, glad for how massive the beds are so he doesn’t end up hurting him. He sits up against the headboard. Cuddles a pillow to his chest. Glares at Harry. “I will hex your mouth shut if you don’t shut up.” And he could as well, he’s just learnt how to.

Harry shrugs, uncaring, which is just rude. Louis is a terrifying, nearly advanced wizard and Harry should be quivering in fear, not curling up under his arm. “I’m just saying.”

Louis breathes slowly to calm himself down. He knows that Harry means well, but he really doesn’t want to talk about it. “Well don’t, alright?”

“Fine,” Harry sighs, finally giving up and settling down fully against his side. Louis reaches around him to shut all the curtains.

“I’ll make you talk about this properly one day, y’know,” Harry mumbles into the fabric of Louis’t-shirt.

Louis hums. “Not bloody likely.”

“Actually, pretty much guaranteed, I saw it in my tea leaves today.”

Him and his stupid tea leaves. Louis shakes his head, laughing. “Take your sodding tea leaves and stick ‘em where the sun don’t shine.” He only half means it.

Silence. The sort of silence when Louis can hears Harry’s brain whirring and he braces himself for the no doubt stupid remark that will follow. “I’m pretty sure some people actually do that for like, ointments and stuff.”

They burst into giggles and it becomes a big of a tickle fight, messing up Louis’ duvet. Yeah they have a strange relationship. But everyone should have Harry styles.

 

☾

 

Louis spends most of his Hogwarts career avoiding the Library. It’s just part of his nature, really. Procrastinating and then doing work with as little effort as possible. He’s only really been in the library a couple of times, when he really has too, he tends to just nick the books he need from Harry after he’s checked them out. It works 9 times out of 10.

And Louis always works better outside, something about the fresh air and the sunlight that keeps him energised and happy and as close to wanting to work as possible. Especially once winter’s over and the world has thawed, warming and brightening more each day.

Well in theory at least, maybe not always in practice.

So he does his work outside.

There’s this tree, fairly young as far as trees go but still big enough to shade his from rain or shine, sat just outside the clock tower courtyard, and Louis loves it. It’s surprisingly comfy to sit against, the grass is cool and soft and it’s out of the way enough that no one bothers him but also close enough to watch people from. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.

So he sits against his tree, and works or doesn’t and no one, except sometimes Harry, ever disturbs him.

Until today.

There are kids playing exploding snap and some Gryffindors from his year playing gobstones in the courtyard. Louis wishes he could join them. Harry still owes him a new set of godstones. He’ll make him buy some when they next go to Hogsmeade.

Louis’ sat against his tree, parchment steadied on a book in his lap, self-inking quill at the ready, trying to write this bloody polyjuice potion essay. He’s read the entire chapter on it about four times now and he still can’t quite work out the properties of all the ingredients or what they contribute to the potion. All in all it’s not going very well.

Then there someone standing in front of him, casting a shadow over the few words he has written. Louis sighs, annoyed. He looks up.

God damn it.

“Hi,” Nick Grimshaw says with a wave, other hand on the strap of his satchel where it’s hooked over his shoulder. His stupid quiff blocks out the entire sun. Practically.

Louis glares at him. “What are you doing here?”

Nick gulps, like he’s nervous or something. Louis finds it extremely suspicious. “I’ve decided to wave the proverbial white flag, as it were,” he says, like he’s speaking memorised lines.

“Ok,” Louis says slowly. His neck’s starting to hurt from looking up at such a sharp angle.

They stare each other out a bit, Nick still looks nervous. Finally he sighs, shoulders sagging. “Harry told me to.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Typical Harry, and typical Nick not thinking for himself. “No surprises there, then.”

Silence. Nick clears his throat. “So here I am. White flagging,” he reaches into his bag and pulls out a thermos, shiny and new. He brandishes it towards Louis, “Truce?”

Louis looks at him appraisingly, from stupid hair to stupid shoes and back again before landing on his offering. He doesn’t miss the way Nick blushes. “Depends,” Louis says, smirking, “What is that?”

Nick shuffles his grip on the thermos, cradling it against his chest sheepishly. “Harry said that you practically live on tea, so I brought you some. Thought maybe I’d bring it as a bit of a peace offering.” Louis stares at him, likes the way it makes Nick shuffle of his feet and blush, embarrassed. “Also,” he continues, “I figured keeping your mouth full was the best way to shut you up.” Louis’ eyebrows jump about a foot up his face, he loves a good innuendo, but he doesn’t think that one was intentional. Nick’s blush deepens even further once he realises what he’s said, arms flapping about. “I didn’t mean like that, I promise, I meant. Y’know. Tea.” He thrusts it back towards Louis, pointedly avoiding eye contact. This is surprisingly fun. Making Nick Grimshaw flustered.

Louis reaches up to take the thermos, looks at it suspiciously. “Have you poisoned it? Because if you have I actually have a bezoar in my bad right now, it’d be a waste of your time.” He doesn’t. But Nick doesn’t know that. He still looks a little hopeless. It’s brilliant.

“No,” he says, now empty hands fiddling with the strap of his bad once more, “I haven’t poisoned it.”

Louis untwists the lid and pours himself some. He takes a sip. Not bad. He wonders if Harry told Nick how he takes his tea. Either way he’ll happily enjoy it. And he’ll probably steal the thermos, he doesn’t know why he never thought to get one for himself before.

He expects Nick to leave now, clumsily making his way back to his proper friends. But the shadow doesn’t disappear like he expects. He looks back up at the Slytherin, eyebrows raised in question.

Nick fusses with his bag again, pulling out some parchment and waving it about a bit. “I’ve brought you my essay. Well half an essay I haven’t finished it yet. Harry said you were struggling. I thought I’d offer to help.”

Louis pulls his barely started essay to his chest protectively. “I don’t copy people’s work. What kind of a miscreant do you take me for, Grimshaw?”

Nick seems to be panicking a little, and it’s unsurprising why their conversations are usually so vile, it seems neither of them really know how to talk to each other, and as delightful as watching nick struggle with words is it’s starting to get rather awkward.

Nick sighs, defeated. “Harry says we’re the same.”

Louis rolls his eyes, looking back down at his works, nonchalant. “Wow, he really does love talking about me behind my back, doesn’t he.”

Nick chuckles, and not unkindly which is a surprise. “Shut up, I know you guys talk about me too.”

Which is, for and intents and purposes, true. And it seems like Harry’s favourite topic of conversation is how similar Louis and Nick are and that they should be friends really. Although if Harry had his say they’d probably be more than just friends.

But maybe there’s a teeny tiny miniscule possibility that Harry is a little bit maybe right. Friends might be pushing it and Louis’ not even gonna think about the _more_ (it makes him feel weird and he doesn’t want to have to analyse it) but it’s actually quite likely that they clash because they’re so alike.

Louis sighs. “Well, sit down then,” he indicates the grass next to him and Nick nearly falls over in his haste to fill the spot, no doubt worried Louis will change his mind if he takes too long. Louis feels so powerful right now, it’s brilliant.

Nick lands a little bit closer than Louis can cope with, so he shuffle away slightly. Neither of them say anything, probably because, like Louis, Nick doesn’t know what to say that won’t end in an argument. Louis fiddles with the edge of the parchment in his lap. Drinks some more tea. Watches the gobstones match.

Then he watches Nick and he can’t stop thinking about what him and Harry talked about, what Harry’s apparently made Nick talk about too. He really is quite attractive, Louis’ not an idiot he knows that. Even with his stupid hair. But he has really nice eyes and some serious eyelashes and Louis’ always appreciated freckles and he has large hands and nice fingers and the few times Louis has seen him smile properly, always at Harry, it had been rather lovely. And these were all things Louis thought long before today. And now Nick’s come to him with blushing cheeks and fluttering those damn eyelashes and it’s even worse that’s he’s not even doing it on purpose to mock Louis.

He can totally image an alternate universe where he would fancy him.

Because he totally doesn’t in this world, he doesn’t.

“My dad wants me to work at the Ministry, too,” Nick says suddenly looking at Louis knowingly, and Louis blanches. He’s definitely never told Nick about his parents or what they want from him, which means that Harry’s telling people personal things about him behind his back. Well. Not people. Definitely just Nick. Louis isn’t as pissed off about that as he probably should be. _You’re so alike._

Yeah. Maybe.

Louis nods, and he isn’t sure what he’s trying to say in that, but Nick takes whatever he needs from it and continues. “I want to work for the Wizarding Wireless Network. Have my own show and all that.”

Louis smiles, imagining it. “You’d be brilliant,” he tells him, truthfully, “Proper charismatic and all that. You’d charm the nation.”

Nick smiles, visibly grateful, and it makes something twist inside Louis.

“I don’t want to be an auror,” he tells him quietly, although he’s positive Nick already knows. Nick moves closer, probably trying to be encouraging. Louis doesn’t shuffle away this time. Instead he continues. “I think I want to play quidditch. Like, I know it’s not the most secure career choice. But I really do love it.”

He’s only ever told Harry that before. It feels both freeing and terrifying to share it with another person.

“Then be a quidditch player,” Nick declares, like it’s that easy. He probably doesn’t know the first thing about quidditch, but it’s comforting none the less. “You’re the best player in the whole school,” Nick continues, “best at every position too, which is just really selfish of you.”

Louis blushes. “Stop being nice, it doesn’t suit you.”

Nick salutes. “Yes, sir.”

Louis tilts his head, smirking. “Kinky.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Tomlinson.”

“Tea?” he offers, still smirking.

“Yeah alright.” He hands Nick the cup, watches him cradle it in his hands and take a sip. When he looks up and sees Louis watching him, he blushes. “Now come on,” he says, screwing the now empty lid back on and reaching for his schoolwork, “two heads are better than one, as they say. We’ll get this essay done in no time.”

They work. Not just that, they work together and it’s really rather odd. They read and discuss and laugh and drink tea and they get nearly the entire essay done before the end of lunch break. They only argue once and it’s about who they’d wanna polyjuice into.

When they really have to head back into the castle, they each clear up their stuff in silence. When their bags are packed and they’ve both stood up Louis stares at the now empty thermos in his hand before turning to smirk at Nick.

“I hope you know I’m keeping this,” he shakes it a bit for effect.

Nick smiles back at him, amused. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Louis doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or glad that Nick doesn’t fight back for it. Everything’s weird. He waves a bit, nods his head then turns back to the courtyard and, by extension, the castle. Everyone else has already gone. Louis wonders how late he’s gonna be for Transfiguration.

He’s nearly through the big wooden doors when Nick calls his name. “Louis, wait.”

He startles. Nick never called him by his first name before. He turns slowly, Nick’s a couple of steps below him, making Louis taller and far too pleased about it. He looks nervous yet determined, and nothing about the Nick he’s seen today is anything like the Nick Louis’ used to. It’s very confusing. He doesn’t quite know what’s real.

“Yes, Nicholas,” he replies.

Nick smiles at the name. “Will you be here tomorrow?” The look on Nick’s face makes Louis blush, which is absolutely ridiculous. This feels far too much like Nick’s walked him home at the end of a date which is so far from the truth it’s almost funny and Louis needs to stop thinking things like this like right the fuck now.

He laughs, nervously. “I’m here more often than I’m not.”

Nick rolls his eyes, more fond than Louis’ ever seen before. “And if I turned up here sometimes too, would you punch me? Or would it be alright?”

Louis blinks, stunned. He doesn’t really know how to answer that question. He decides on the truth. “Oh I’d punch you. But it’d probably be alright as well.” And it only strikes Louis just how true that is after he’s said it. “I’ll bring the tea,” he adds, indicating his brand new thermos.

Nick smiles, bright and genuine. Louis blushes. Again. “Deal,” he says with a salute before turning away and sauntering off towards his Care of Magical Creatures lesson.

They meet up the next day. And the one after that. And twice the next week and the week after too. They keep meeting up and they keep doing work together and they keep having mostly friendly conversations over tea.

Nick laughs at all of Louis’ jokes. It makes Louis’ tummy feel all squirmy.

Why does Harry have to be right all the time.

 

☾

 

 

Louis’ late for potions. He’s so fucking late, but it’s not even his fault, which is what’s really unfair. Well, he was a bit late anyway, he usually is, but it’s the staircases fault that he’s _so fucking_ late. They kept moving, like pretty much every single one he tried to walk down, like they were playing some sort of game with him. He wouldn’t put it past them. They’re tricky buggers, they are.

And yeah ok, maybe stopping by the Great Hall for some toast was counterproductive, but he was late anyway and his mum always says to feed his stomach before he feeds his mind.

He’s probably missed half the lesson by now, maybe Harry will let him share his potion, Louis certainly won’t have time to make his own now. Maybe Nick will offer to share. Not that Louis would accept even if he did, of course. They’d end up ripping each other’s heads off.

But. Well. They have been working fairly well together the past couple months, even if just on their essays, but. Maybe. It might be nice, even. It’s quite odd going from yelling insults to friendly banter. It’s definitely less stressful. And it’s quite fun, Nick’s quite good at banter. Quite funny. Almost makes working easier. And Nick is a Slytherin, after all, potion making should come naturally to him. From his blood. So if Louis did work with him, it’d be for purely selfish reasons. Obviously.

He runs down the final steps to the dungeons two at a time, and nearly runs into a wall trying to turn the last corner to the classroom.

Louis smells it before he’s even through the door, it’s that fragrant.

It’s definitely familiar to him, feels like a regular part of his life, but he can’t quite place it. It actually doesn’t feel that out of place, like, in his daily routine, it just feels like. _More_. Louis finds himself taking deeper, longer breaths, trying to take in as much of the scent as possible. It smells quite good. Really good.

He shakes himself out of the slight trance he’s found himself in and makes his way through the classroom, hoping Slughorn won’t see him quite yet or at least won’t be too harsh on him for being so late. He doesn’t think he would. Slughorn is a kind soul.

It’s when he reaches his table at the back that he puts the pieces together. Nick fucking Grimshaw, leant over his cauldron, hair flopping around already, intently focused on his little ‘potion’. The little shit. This is brilliant.

“Oi Grimshaw!” Louis calls as he reaches his seat, grinning like a manic, “You’re brewing your own cologne? That’s a waste of school supplies, I should report you.” He laughs, and he expects other people to laugh, especially Harry, and maybe Nick a bit sarcastically, but what he’s met with is complete silence. The people on the surrounding tables have stopped their conversations to stare right at Louis.

It’s very unnerving.

Nick looks like he’s seen a ghost, staring at Louis with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape, cheeks dusted with a light pink. It really brings out his freckles, which, not really the time to be thinking about that, not when everyone’s looking at him like he’s just murdered someone.

Harry looks like he wants to reach out for him to comfort him, which isn’t exactly irregular, but the look on his face is a lot more serious than when he normally wants a bit of a cuddle.

Louis doesn’t know what the fuck is happening but whatever it is is really, really freaking him out.

Nick speaks first, if a barely there “What?” counts as speaking.

“What?” Louis asks back, mock nonchalant, awkwardly pulling at the hem of his jumper, tracing the coloured stripes absentmindedly.

“Louis,” Harry whispers, sliding his text book across the table towards him, indicating the little introduction of the potion it’s opened to.

 _Amortentia_. Louis’ heard of it, it doesn’t sound like a bad or dangerous potion, sounds quite nice really. His eyes skim over the text taking in bits and pieces like ‘ _most powerful love potion’_ and ‘ _obsessive infatuation’_ before stopping on a sentence that Harry has underlined:

_‘It has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, reminding each person of the things that they find most attractive.’_

Oh.

“Oh.”

He feels mortified, face burning under the gaze of his classmates, of Harry’s sympathy, of _Nick_.

And the way he’s looking at Louis, brows furrowed like he just doesn’t understand. Louis knows the feeling. He feels like crying.

He needs to get out of here right the fuck now.

He backs away slowly, everyone still looking at him, before he turns and legs it out the room, trying to keep his breathing steady, far too close to hyperventilating.

He keeps running, legs more in control then he is, until he reaches his tree, putting all his weight against the cold, solid wood. It sooths him, cooling him where he’s still flushed hot with embarrassment, the bark no doubt leaving little patterns all over his right cheek.

He turns around and slides to the floor, grass slightly damp.

It’s really not fair, Louis thinks, that a potion like that even exists. That everything lined up so perfectly to ruin his life. He wonders if Slughorn will let him change tables, anything rather than having to sit next to Nick every lesson for the next year and a bit. And maybe Harry could move with him, ‘cause a table just full of him and other students pitying him sounds almost as awful. Well actually, not even near to as awful but still pretty horrible. In face every scenario he comes up with is completely horrible, and end with Nick or everyone one else or both ridiculing him for eternity. Louis doesn’t know what to do. And he’s probably gonna get in so much trouble for being so late and then running out like that. Maybe he’ll get kicked off the course so he won’t have to see Nick ever again.

It wouldn’t be the worst outcome, he thinks.

He takes out his thermos, pours himself a cuppa, takes a sip and simply breaths. It’s really quite a nice day. The grounds are even emptier than they usually are what with it still being the middle of lessons, and all. Quiet. Peaceful. Refreshing. The opposite of his mind right now.

What feels like hours later or could be no time at all, Louis hears someone approaching him, grass crunching beneath their feet, shadow crawling over his legs. He knows who it is without looking, and not just because of how tall his shadow is. Because there’s that fucking smell again. _Nick_. Softer this time, the actual thing rather than put into his head by a potion, but now that Louis knows it’s pleasant – fucking attractive – to him, he notices it tenfold.

It’s really rather nice. The cologne or shampoo or just the pure Nick-ness of whatever it is.

Louis waits, hoping that if he’s quiet for long enough Nick will just fuck off. He doesn’t. He plonks himself down right next to him.                                                                                                                                                                               

They breathe together, the only sound around them. Any other day it’d be absolutely lovely. But right now Louis feels like his heart’s gonna fall right out of his chest, it’s pounding so much.

Nick takes a deep breath. Louis braces himself.

“I smell jasmine,” he says so quietly that Louis would miss it, if it were for how aware he is of everything _Nick._

“We’re in Scotland,” Louis deadpans, pulling his knees up to his chest and taking another gulp of tea.

Nick chuckles softly. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

He starts moving, Louis holds his breath, he doesn’t think Nick’s the sort of person who would hit him for this, but he’s been wrong before. Then there’s a hand by his cheek. Louis flinches. But it’s soft fingertips and caresses, tilting his head, and when he opens his eyes, he’s looking right at Nick.

He looks Louis dead in the eyes and Louis can’t even bring himself to look away. This doesn’t feel tense or awkward, it feels so normal Louis wants to cry. Just him and Nick, sat so close, looking right at each other.

Nick takes another breath. Starts again. “I smell jasmine, grass and tea.”

Louis’ grip tightens on the luke warm cup in his hands. And he thinks of the bottle of jasmine scented shampoo sitting in his trunk. He bring a hand up to pull at his hair, self-consciously. Nick eyes follow it, smiling softly. Something warm, something _hopeful_ unfurls in his chest.

Louis sets his mostly finished tea down carefully, pulling at the grass by his hip. “Have you been sniffing my hair, Grimshaw, because that’s pretty fucking weird.”

He smiles. “Don’t act like you’re not pleased.”

Louis thinks, dares to let himself hope. “Everyone drinks tea,” Louis can’t help but mutter. Can’t help but doubt.

“ _Louis,_ ” is all Nick says in response. And yeah. Ok.

He turns back to Nick, his whole body leaning towards him this time. They’re so close.

“You fancy me,” he can’t help but tease him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop. Teasing Nick, that is.

Nick smirks. “You can’t prove a thing.” They’re so close now that Louis has to go cross-eyed to see him properly. It’s kind of wonderful. There are flecks of gold in his eyes, his eyelashes are really fucking long and his lips look so soft. Louis _wants._

“I think a certain potion would prove otherwise, Grimshaw.”

Nick’s hands find themselves slipping around Louis’ waist, digging into the fabric or his jumper. “Like you can talk, Tomlinson.”

Louis can’t help but smile. “Touché.”

And then he’s sliding his fingers into Nick’s hair, cauldron-soft and smelling so lovely, and pulls him in.

Nick tastes as good as he smells.

 

☾

 

(They each lose 20 house points for missing potions, and have to varnish all the tables and benches in the Great Hall. As first official dates go it’s rather odd, but Louis wouldn’t have it any other way. Well, he wouldn’t mind a bit more kissing, but Slughorn doesn’t really appreciate it when they do that. Harry loves it, he never stops saying ‘I told you so’. He’s not even meant to be there.)

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how to write kisses I’m sorry I know you probably wanted more but I’m an inexperienced moth
> 
> [tumblr](http://b0yfriendsinl0ve.tumblr.com/)


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